


Birds of Paradise

by abstractSilver (Starlightstiel)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, BAMF Castiel, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Power Imbalance, Protective Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlightstiel/pseuds/abstractSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester wakes up alone on a seemingly deserted tropical island following a gruesome shipwreck, his only thought is that he needs to find his brother. When it becomes clear that not everything is what it seems, he must find a way to keep himself and those close to him alive while he contends with the island's many dangers, as well as its mysterious winged protector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to warn everyone that this fic will be very dark. I tagged it as angst for a very good reason. Please heed all warnings. I will be adding additional warnings at the beginning of applicable chapters. 
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter:  
> Graphic depiction of an injury

_Wake Up_

Dean gasped and jolted up, leaning heavily to his side as he coughed violently until all of the salt water was expelled from his lungs. He grasped helplessly at the soft sand beneath him, using the last reserves of his strength to pull himself out of the surf and further up the beach. He gripped his head as a sharp jolt of pain flashed through it, visions of rampant flames consuming everything they touched and black, suffocating smoke filled his mind. 

He somehow mustered the strength to pull himself to his knees, heaving until he had expelled the copious amounts of seawater he must have swallowed. It was agonizing. His chest burned as he gasped helplessly for breath to fill his starved lungs.

He was alive. How was he alive? And where was he? 

He forced his head up, bleary eyes taking in the small expanse of sand in front of him. The night was dark, and he couldn't see more than a few few feet in any direction. He forced himself to crawl several more feet up the beach, safely out of reach of the hungry surf lapping at his heels. 

“Sam!” He attempted to yell as panic set in. His voice sounded weak and shaky to his own ears, and he knew that even if Sam was nearby he wouldn't be able to hear him. Where could his brother be? After a few failed attempts he managed to stand on shaking legs, stumbling a bit before finally steadying himself. 

Dean leaned down for a few moments, bracing his hands on his knees as he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. He couldn't let himself panic. He tried desperately to remember what had happened... They were out on the deck, enjoying their dinner and chatting with a couple from England; Balthazar and Bela if he recalled correctly. He remembered small flashes of panic, screaming, and intense heat. It was no use though, he could recall anything beyond that. He was with Sam at the time though, and if he somehow survived then his brother must have as well. He refused to consider the alternative.

As much as he wanted to continue looking for his brother, the lack of visibility was just too problematic. He could barely even see his own hand in front of his face, let alone another person. He hated it, but there was no way he was going to be able to find Sam tonight. He had no idea where they had washed up. Hopefully it was inhabited. 

He made a weak effort to walk further up the beach, but it was futile. He hadn't noticed it at first due to the adrenaline, but there was a definite ache to his step and something that was more than likely blood oozing out of the side of his leg. Well, it looked like he was injured in that crash after all. He hoped the fact he could walk at all meant it wasn't too serious. There wasn't much he could do about it in this darkness. 

He made one last effort at standing, but the adrenaline-induced strength that had allowed him to rise before abandoned him. He groaned softly and forced himself to roll over onto his back. The stars were vividly clear here, much more visible than they were back in the states. Maybe it we because of the lack of pollution or whatever. If he wasn’t bleeding on a strange beach and worrying about Sam, he might even admire their beauty. As it was, he just closed his eyes and tried to relax. It wasn't long before fatigue once again settled over his body, dragging him down into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

Dean opened his eyes slowly as the first rays of dawn pierced his eyelids and coaxed him into wakefulness. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but he still felt bone tired. He resisted the urge to fall back into slumber, knowing that he needed to tend to the injury he was forced to ignore the previous night. 

After taking a few moments to compose himself, Dean forced his tired body into a sitting position and began to inspect the cut on his leg. It had worsened in the night, and he could hardly move without a cringe. “Damn...” He muttered, wincing as he rolled his pant leg up to inspect the gaping wound on his calf. It was covered with sand and black blood was beginning to crust around the edges. He didn't think it was infected, but it was something that needed to be taken care of quickly. 

Standing up as carefully as possible, he slowly took stock of his surroundings for the first time. He was astonished by what he saw. The beach stretched on for as far as his eyes could see in one direction, and to the other it continued on for a couple of hundred meters before stopping abruptly at the ridge of a massive cliff. The stone face rose up at least a hundred yards. Behind him, about fifty yards up from the shoreline, a massive jungle loomed. 

He gulped, feeling the blood in his face drain away as he limped a bit further away from the surf and towards a piece of driftwood so he could sit down and think. He needed to look for Sammy... But first things first, he needed to do something about his leg. 

He didn’t think it was infected, which was a small blessing. He could probably thank the salt water for that. It was still oozing slowly though, which worried him. It must have been at least 12 hours since he was injured. He sighed and carefully removed the tattered plaid button up he was wearing, folding it a few times to form a thin strip of fabric as he carefully circled his calf and tied it snugly around the wound. He was no doctor, but he knew that leaving it completely uncovered was a good way to get infection, and on the off chance they weren't rescued soon... No, he couldn't let himself think that way. He would find Sam and then they would find some kind of civilization. There was no way he was marooned on a deserted island. Stuff like that happened in books and movies, not real life. 

He allowed himself a few more minutes to relax his leg and come up with some kind of game plan. The sun was still low on the horizon, painting the surf in front of him a soft golden orange color. If circumstances were different, he would say it was beautiful. Unfortunately, his current position made it difficult to really appreciate something like a sunrise. 

He sat there for longer than he planned, watching the golden orb rise higher and higher as his eyes began to droop from fatigue. It was still early morning by the time his stomach started to grumble and finally spurred him into action. He needed to find food eventually, but even more importantly he needed water. He wasn't sure how much salt water he ended up swallowing before he washed up on shore, but he knew it must have been a significant amount if his cracked lips and parched throat were anything to go by. 

He sighed, forcing himself up to peer at the surf. He hadn't noticed before, but there were planks of broken and charred wood that had washed up with him. He patted his sides for a moment, groaning in frustration at the realization that his knife and gun were missing. They must have washed away while he was in the water. Well, at least he made it to shore it one piece. He couldn't complain too much. 

He combed the shoreline for several minutes, trying to find something that could be used as a weapon. Unfortunately, he felt his hope deflate by the minute. The only items that he could find in the surf were either burnt beyond recognition or too waterlogged to be usable. Nothing here would help him in the slightest. The only small comfort was the distinct lack of corpses among the wreckage. Then again, they probably all burned to ash in the fire. 

He sighed again, flopping down onto the soft sand in frustration at the meager materials that washed up with him. No gun. No knife. No water. The only thing he had was a wounded leg, a shoreline covered in charred wood, and the beginnings of a nasty sunburn. A grim sense of hopelessness began to settle on him as he gazed out at the horizon, wondering if he could somehow find a piece of wood that was dry and relatively unburnt, and how difficult it would be to fashion it into some kind of makeshift knife. The ocean seemed to be taunting him, stretching on forever in an endless expanse of-wait! There was something out there! He immediately pulled himself to his feet and began to limp into the surf, continuing until the water reached his chest and lapped gently against his shoulders. There was something bright pink and large slowly drifting towards him, and he was almost sure it was a suitcase. 

Dean couldn't believe his luck. There was bound to be something valuable in there. The case was only about fifty meters away... easily in swimming distance. He bent his knees and was about to push towards it, but forced himself to stop. The ocean seemed calm enough now, but he knew that there were unseen dangers. A strong current could grab him and he would more than likely drown before he could break free of it. Furthermore, he had no idea what kind of creatures were in this water. He was already injured, being stung or bitten by some kind of venomous aquatic wouldn't improve his chances. Still... He wasn't sure if he would even be able to find the supplies he needed, and the possibilities of that bag were endless: food, water, medical supplies, even sunscreen. Who was he kidding, no way he was just going to let it drift away! He breathed in deeply, reached his arms out, and pushed towards it. 

The case seemed to drift further away the closer he got to it, and he forced himself to kick harder in frustration. A twinge of pain shot up his injured leg and he yelped lightly, stopping momentarily before starting his paddling again. He was so close now. Just a few more- "Got it!" He shouted triumphantly, clinging to the floating plastic shell. He was pleased to see that it was a hardcover suitcase. Hopefully whatever was inside was still dry. This was turning out to be an even luckier find than he originally thought! 

He couldn't wipe the grin from his face as he clung tightly to the suitcase, taking a moment to rest before making the trip back to shore. The water here was clearer than he had ever seen, and the ocean floor was completely visible below him. There were large, colorful fish he had never seen before swimming lazily near the bottom. He hummed happily to himself, making a mental note to keep those in mind as a possible food source. How hard could it be to fashion some kind of fishing hook? 

When his leg stopped throbbing and he had his breath back, he turned back to the shore, grin still plastered on his face from the joy of his find.

He stopped suddenly, nearly losing his grip on the case as he stared at the shore. There, where he was sitting just twenty minutes ago, a figure was standing and staring out at him. He sucked in a harsh breath, his mind churning with confusion and mild terror. The strange figure was too far away to make out clearly, but the way that he was staring at Dean made his heart jackhammer in his chest and his muscles clench in fear and anticipation. The figure was still, unnaturally so, and he felt his throat go dry as his mind scrambled to react.

He yelped in alarm and immediately lost his grip on the case, spluttering as he felt something large and slimy rub against his thigh. His head was submerged for a moment, and he managed to swallow a mouthful of salty water before he lifted himself back up and grappled with the case frantically to keep it from slipping away. Dean looked down in panic to search for the source of the scare, and noticed a brightly colored fish making a hasty retreat back to the depths.

Once he had a safe grip on the case and finished hacking up the water he swallowed, he turned his attention back to the shore. The figure was gone without a single trace. He felt a deep sense of unease settle in the pit of his stomach as he began to hesitantly paddle towards the shore, towing the suitcase behind him. He glanced nervously up and down the beach as he swam, scanning the distance for any sign of the person he had just seen. Could it have been another survivor? Were the heat and the fact that he had nothing but saltwater in his system causing him to hallucinate? 

When he finally reached the shallows, he scanned once more for the figure. Nothing. If it had been another survivor, surely they would have called to him? The more he thought about it, the more surreal the entire situation was beginning to seem. He tried his best to shake off the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, and proceeded to haul the heavy case with him further up the beach. When it was finally out of reach of the waves, he dropped it gracelessly and proceeded to make his way towards where he had seen the figure standing. What he saw sent a shiver of dread through his body. 

In the sand by the log where he sat previously, there were two sets of footprints. His own, the larger pair, meandered down the beach and into the surf. The other, slightly smaller and barefoot, continued for a couple of steps toward the jungle and then simply vanished. He looked around the area frantically, but was unable to pick the trail back up. He slowly lifted his gaze towards the dark tangle of green, the oppressive silence from the jungle nearly deafening. He shuddered once more, wiping away the sudden cold sweat that appeared on his brow, before tearing his eyes way from that dark place and heading back down the beach to take stock of the luggage he had salvaged. 

 

His immediate hope for the case was tempered somewhat by the fact that it was locked. He knew that by now the key was probably at the bottom of the ocean, possibly along with its owner. Now he just needed to find a way to open the damn thing. 

He looked around for something, anything that could be used as a tool to break the lock. After a couple of minutes of searching he managed to procure a fist sized rock. Perhaps blunt force would do the trick? It was worth a shot. He took a deep breath and brought the rock down as hard as he could on the lock, grinning in triumph as he heard it practically shatter. He couldn't say he was surprised though, for some reason the lock was made of the same cheap, plastic material as the rest of the case.

He lifted the lid slowly, not wanting to damage anything that might still be salvageable inside. The first thing he noticed was that there were extremely bright and colorful clothes strewn about the inside. He picked up the nearest article, unfolding it and holding it up. A t-shirt plastered with the bright white face of what appeared to be a cat with a red bow in its hair stared back at him. It was the most hideous thing he had ever seen. He sighed, putting the abominable top to the side as he dug for something that might actually be useful. Unfortunately, all of the clothing in the case was obviously for a child. What use was that? 

Dean grabbed the next item in the case, a small pink lunch box that had that horrendous cat face on it again. "Seriously..." He groaned, opening the top. What he saw more than made up for the gaudy design. The case appeared to be some kind of container for a child's first aid kit. Inside, there were several sheets of band-aids that also carried the cat logo, as well as a small pack of ointments and creams. Sterile gauze pads and medical tape were also included, along with a small keychain/chapstick combo and what appeared to be a sheet of cat stickers. He carefully put the items back into the pail and closed the lid. An aid kit, even one meant for a child, could make all the difference. 

He reached back into the case, pulling out a bright pink water bottle with purple leopard print on it. Despite the awful decoration, he couldn't deny how useful it would be to have a portable water supply. Unfortunately, the bottle was currently empty. He continued to pull items from the case, surprised at how much there was. A unicorn themed toiletries bag yielded a toothbrush, toothpaste and even floss. Travel sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, as well as a bristled brush and sunscreen were also contained. A children's art kit with colored pencils, paper and a pencil sharpener was next, followed by a nauseatingly colorful binder covered in cartoon dolphins. Last was a small, plastic backpack that had a cat with angel wings and a halo on it. A logo that read Lisa Frank was plastered across one of the side pouches. 

Dean sighed and leaned back in the sand, staring idly at the items in front of him. They obviously belonged to a child, and he felt a twinge of sorrow in his chest at the knowledge she was probably dead. For all he knew, there were no survivors except him. 

...And Sam. Sam had to be alive.

 

The sun was high in the sky now, and the heat was oppressive as Dean made his way through the thick undergrowth. His throat was parched beyond belief, and he knew that if he didn't find water soon that he was doomed. It took all of his willpower not to just give in and drink from the sea, but if he knew anything about survival in this kinda of situation it was not to drink seawater under any circumstance. 

He tried to listen for the sound of running water, but it was difficult to hear anything over the sound of the waves in the distance and the strange birds singing through the trees. He had yet to actually see one, but from the sounds if it they were all around him. The rustling from the undergrowth made him tense up whenever he heard it, unsure in this new environment. He had no idea would was awaiting him. He just knew that he had to find water and soon. 

He continued further into the dense forest, becoming more nervous as he got further and further away from the beach. He occasionally turned back, still confident as long as he could keep sight of the shoreline through the trees. Still, there was no sign of fresh water.

He adjusted the brightly colored and much too small backpack, shrugging it off of his shoulders and setting it down as he sat at the base of a large tree. Another strange cooing noise caught his attention, and he looked up into the thick canopy. Only a few feet above his head, a blue bird with a massive golden plume atop its head stared down at him, tilting its head to the side and calling again.

"Do know where I can find fresh water?" He asked offhandedly, kicking at the dirt in frustration. The bird merely tilted its head even further, and continued to stare at him in mild interest. He sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "No, I guess not. Fucking great..." 

The bird continued to stare at him as he forced himself to stand back up, wiping away the leaves that had collected on his pants. His leg was beginning to hurt from the morning activities, but he knew that he had to find water soon if he wanted to make it back to the beach by nightfall. The thought of being lost in the jungle in the pitch-black darkness made him shudder. 

"What are you looking at..?" He mumbled at the bird, leaning against the tree while he examined his injured leg, wincing in pain. He could see bright red streaks radiating out from under the cloth he had carefully wrapped around it. Dammit, he was hoping to avoid an infection. Thankfully the first aid kit in the suitcase had proper bandaging materials. He would have to remember to take care of that when he got back. 

Dean nearly fell over when the bird that had previously been silent let out a loud shriek and flew away in a flutter of wings. After regaining his composure, he looked around for a hint of what could have startled the creature. It didn't seem in the least bit skittish while it was staring at him. He didn't know anything about the local flora and fauna, but he knew that whatever had scared the bird was probably something he didn't want to meet face to face. 

He continued to stand, motionless and unsure of what to do, straining his ears to hear anything. There was nothing. No rustle of the bushes, no chattering of birds. It was completely silent. Too silent. He gulped again, wiping a cold sweat from his brow as he slowly began to inch forward. Maybe the bird had just decided it had enough, or saw a worm or something it wanted to eat. Were there even worms on tropical islands? He shook his head rapidly. Now was not the time to think about that. He needed water, and he couldn't let a frightened avian scare him back to the beach without it.

He took another tentative step, but nearly fell over again as his foot came down on uneven ground. "Fuck!" He cried, stepping back as he looked down. What was a hole doing in the middle of- oh. 

"Fuck..." He said again, this time in a whimper. Where his foot had landed previously, there was a massive footprint. It was definitely not human, or anything else he had encountered for that matter. It appeared to be from some sort of animal, but judging by the size of the claws, he definitely wasn't in a hurry to find out. There were four on each print, each extending out about half a foot. Definitely not good. 

Dean was torn. On one hand, he wanted to turn back and run as far away from this place as possible. However, he knew that without water he wouldn't last. As much as it pained him, he also knew that if possible he should get some kind of look at whatever made this print. He needed to know what he was dealing with. Besides, Sam and him had to deal with much worse on a near daily basis. He was not a coward. He could do this. 

Tightening his grip on the backpack straps, he took a hesitant step forward in the direction that the footprints seemed to be leading. They were spaced several feet apart; another thing that spoke for the sheer size of whatever had left them. Everything had to drink, something of this size probably even more so, so if he was lucky perhaps it would lead him straight to a fresh water source.

The footprints continued for at least a hundred yards before finally vanishing into a large thicket. He gulped, reaching his hand out hesitantly and pulling one of the branches aside. What lay before him rendered him speechless. 

In the middle of the small thicket, nearly invisible from the branches of shrubs and trees covering them, were three giant eggs. They had to be the size of his head at least. This clearing be the nest of whatever creature left those prints. 

He looked around cautiously, and when he was sure that the massive creature was nowhere around, he inched slowly forward. An egg that size would feed him for a while if he could manage to start a fire and cook it. He leaned down next to the nest and shrugged off his pack, easing the backpack off and picking up an egg, ready to place it inside. 

He froze immediately as a deep hiss filled the air, accompanied by a low rumble that sounded like a growl. It was close. Too close. Impossibly close. He turned his head slowly, body shaking uncontrollably as he took in the figure behind him. 

Massive would be an understatement. Perhaps colossal would be nearest to describing the reptilian creature before him. It stood on four legs, and was nearly twice as tall as Dean. It's gaping maw was lined with yellowing teeth, and the foul scent that emanated from it made him nearly double over and vomit right on the spot. It's hide was brown and scaly, shining dully in the speckled light from the canopy. It looked pissed. Thankfully, his flight instinct took over almost immediately. Before even registering what was happening, he immediately wheeled around and began to run for the treeline. He didn't know if the creature was following him. He was not about to turn around and find out.

He continued to run even when the growls of the creature dissipated and the sounds of the jungle began to pick up again. He ran even though his lungs were screaming and his injured leg was aching. He didn't know what direction he was going, and a small part of his mind screamed for him to stop before he became hopelessly lost, but he ignored it. Get away. Get away. Get away. It was like a steady drum deep inside of him, keeping rhythm when his heartbeat had lost it completely and logical thought abandoned him.

He finally stopped after what seemed like forever, falling to his knees beneath a particularly large and gnarled tree and gasping for breath. 

"Fuck..." He whispered, clutching his chest in a futile attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart. "Fuck." He forced himself to breathe at a semi-regular pace, his lungs aching with need as his heart continued to flutter uncontrollably. He tried to focus on the sounds around him: the chirping of the birds, the rustle of the trees in the wind, the soft cascade of water- wait. Water. 

Instantly his eyes shot back open, and he stumbled towards the sound. If he was thirsty before, his mad run through the jungle left him so parched it was painful. The sound of water became progressively louder as he forced his way through the thick growth, trying desperately to find the source. 

Finally, after searching for several minutes, the sound of cascading water became overwhelmingly powerful. He pushed his way through the last of the undergrowth, stumbling into a small clearing that took his breath away. 

Before him there was a large pool of water so clear he could see the sandy bottom. The most impressive feature however, was the large waterfall that was continuously depositing water into the pool. It was beautiful, and if he wasn't so thirsty he might stop to admire it. As it were, he could barely stop himself from jumping straight in to the pool and gorging himself on the glorious fresh water. 

Instead, he dropped to his knees at the water's edge and scooped a handful of water with his hands, bringing it to his lips and slurping eagerly. Rivulets dribbled down his chin but he didn't care, all he could do was greedily shovel more and more into his mouth. Now that he was drinking, the thirst within him was in overdrive. He was never going to be able to drink enough to make it go away.

Finally, when his throat was no longer aching and his belly was almost bursting, he forced himself to lay back. The ground was soft here, and a strange kind of fatigue settled over him as he stared up at the sky, fighting to keep his eyes open. The light was beginning to get low, and he knew he needed to head back if he was going to make it to the beach before nightfall. ...If he could even find his way back. His encounter with that- that monster had shaken him badly. He had no idea how to get back to the beach, and he was reluctant to leave the seeming safety of his new found water source. If he did leave, would he be able to find his way back at all?

Dean closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he listened to the calming noise of the waterfall. It was steady. Comforting. It reminded him of the constant hum of the Impala when he would drive her down a long highway. Was he ever going to drive her again? The sound continued. Steady. Grounding. The water lapped softly against the rocks. Somewhere above him, a bird cooed softly and one responded with equal affection. For the first time since he awoke on the island, Dean felt at peace. 

 

Looking back, Dean will never be able to say for sure what awoke him. In fact, he wasn't even aware he had fallen asleep the side of the pool. He gently opened his heavy eyelids, the small sense of dread that was beginning to curl in his chest at the sight of the dark night sky speckled with stars immediately dispelled to be replaced with one of wonderment. 

Softly glowing orbs of light levitated above the water and through the surrounding trees. They occasionally came into contact with one another, and at the point they connected a bright flash would occur before the drifted softly away once again. Dean slowly stood up, jaw slack and eyes wide as he stepped through the mist of light. He knew he should be afraid, but fear was the furthest thing from his mind. The entire scene felt... familiar somehow. The light felt like home. 

He took a few more steps forward, not stopping even as he took several steps into the lake. The water lapped against his knees as he turned in a slow circle, unable to take in enough of the sight before him. The orbs of light seemed to take no notice of him, although occasionally one would brush against his shoulder or thigh as it drifted past. At the point of contact, he felt a sharp surge of emotion that he couldn't quite place, quickly followed by a sense of overwhelming calm. 

He felt drugged. Hazy. Something deep inside of him was trying to get his attention, trying to tell him to leave this strange place. It wasn't meant for him. He couldn't listen to it though, not now. He was completely enraptured now and no sense of self preservation could shake his bedazzlement.

A bright flutter of light drifted past his cheek, and he turned his head lazily to follow it back towards the shoreline. He startled belatedly, taking a shaky and uneven step backward reflexively as he took in the figure before him. It was the same figure he saw on the beach earlier that day. The man stared back at him, impossibly blue eyes shimmering with the reflections of orbs of light that began to meander slowly towards him as though drawn by some kind of invisible force. Dean could only stare, entranced, as the man stared at him unblinkingly. 

Dean noticed strange black shapes behind the stoic figure, and he reluctantly forced his eyes away from the other man's and focused on his back. In the soft light of the glowing orbs, two massive wings billowed out from behind him. They were inky black, nearly blending in to the darkness of the jungle in the background. Massive glossy feathers reflected the light from the wisps. Dean couldn't help but stare at them. He knew he should be afraid or repulsed, but instead he felt drawn to the figure. His eyes slowly slid back to meet the other man's, and he took a tentative step forward.

"Who... Are you?" He managed to whisper, taking another step. The glowing orbs continued to gravitate towards the winged figure, bunching up into his wings and behind him. The light made him glow, forming a soft halo around his head and wings. Dean took another step forward, urged on by some inexplicable drive to be even closer. 

There was less than a meter between them now, and Dean had to fight the urge to close the distance between them and bury himself in the massive wings; meld himself into that awesome light. As though sensing his desire, the figure stepped back while still holding Dean's gaze. Dean stepped forward to try and close the distance, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss as the winged man continued to retreat. He stepped closer and closer to the jungle's edge, pulling Dean with him as he went. 

Finally the figure turned his back to Dean, and Dean was now struck with a full view of the wings he had previously glimpsed. They were even larger than he originally estimated, folded in on themselves and yet still impressive. He longed to see them extended fully, ached for more of their now almost painful light. The took a few more steps towards the dark edge of the jungle, but Dean hung back now. Despite every fiber in his being telling him to follow, some small voice of self preservation deep within warned him to stay away. The man seemed to sense that Dean had stopped following him, for he paused briefly and gazed at him over his shoulder. Their eyes met once more, and Dean felt his willpower crumble. When the man once again began to stride slowly yet purposefully into the jungle, he followed without hesitation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this happened. I actually have the majority of this story finished now, so updates will be regular form now on. I'll post them as soon as I finish editing them. Thanks for sticking with it!

Additional warnings: ableist language

When Dean opened his eyes the following morning, sun blindingly bright and air scorching hot, he was dazed and confused. He looked around in panic for a moment as visions of the previous day flashed through his mind. He was back on the beach. How did he get back on the beach? He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, kicking at the sand in front of him. Maybe the dehydration was finally getting to him. There was no way what happened last night could have been real.

He must have slept for a long time if the position of the sun was anything to go by. Then again, he had no idea how he even made it back in one piece. He was out of his mind to go wandering through the jungle at night. But, if his memory could be trusted, he wasn't alone.

No. Stop. He was not going to follow that thought.

Sighing, he forced himself to stand and take stock of his surroundings. The log where he sat yesterday was there, as well as the pink suitcase tucked snugly behind it. It was strange that he managed to find his way back to this exact spot when he had been so hopelessly lost. He tried to push away the trickle of unease that wound tight in his belly as he walked towards the case. He needed to properly clean and bandage his leg. It was already infected, but maybe he could keep the infection from getting worse.

Dean quickly extracted the colorful aid kit from amidst the heaps of clothing. He settled himself down on the log, taking a deep breath while rolling up his pant-leg to get a good look at the injury. The button up shirt he had tied around the wound took him a few minutes to undo, but eventually he managed to extract it from his calf and toss it aside.

He grabbed one of the disinfectant packets, then turned back back to the wound and- wait. He stared at his leg for several moments, unsure of what to make of it. The wound that was there previously, large and gaping, was simply gone. There wasn't even a scar. He gulped nervously, running his fingers over the smooth flesh. There was no evidence he had injured himself in the first place. He glanced over at the discarded shirt he used as a makeshift bandage, snatching it from the ground and turning it over. Dark blood crusted the inside nearly completely, visible even from the other side. Dean gulped, stunned into silence. There was no way that healed overnight, especially not with the way it was infected.

Dean shook his head rapidly, trying to dispel the creeping unease that was forming in his mind. There was a perfectly logical explanation to this. There had to be. He was incredibly dehydrated yesterday, which would explain why his body was having trouble fighting off the infection. Maybe after having the chance to replenish his thirst it was able to heal. As for the lack of a scar? Still hard to explain, but now was not the time to dwell on it. 

In spite of the copious amounts of water he had consumed the previous day, he felt the dry scratch of thirst in his throat once more. He looked up at the sky and was immediately filled with frustration and despair. Not a single cloud in sight. He could have kicked himself for his own stupidity by not filling the water bottle he had found on his last excursion into the ominous jungle. The idea of another voyage off of the (relative) safety of the beach made him cringe. He just hoped that Sam was smart enough to not set a foot in there. Hopefully he wasn't alone, either. Or hurt... Dean forced himself to stop thinking of all the possible scenarios for Sam as he pulled the suitcase closer to him and rifled through it for the empty water bottle. 

It didn't take long for him to pull it out of its place between a couple of brightly colored shirts, but he nearly dropped it again at the unexpected weight and sloshing. No way. It had definitely been empty yesterday. He popped the cap of carefully and raised it close to his nose, sniffing at the contents suspiciously. When no odor came from the liquid he squirted a few drops into his mouth. Instead of the salty taste he was expecting, he was surprised by to find that the water was completely fresh and salt-free. He carefully closed the cap, making sure not to spill a drop, and put it into the backpack. He must have filled it up yesterday when he was at the pool and not remembered. There was no other explanation, at least not one he was willing to entertain. People with wings didn't exist. The figure from before had to be a figment of his imagination brought on by dehydration and shock. He would laugh about it with Sam as soon as he found him. 

Thoughts of his brother spurred him once more into movement. He put the water bottle gingerly into the backpack and hiked it up over his shoulder. His leg seemed to be healed, and now he needed to find a safer source of water as well as some kind of food. He looked up and down the beach, trying to decide which direction to go. He was definitely going to try and avoid the unforgiving jungle. He still had no idea how he made it out in one piece last night, but he was not going to press his luck.

Dean walked along the waterline for what felt like hours as he made his slow trek up the beach. The large rocky outcropping to the south seemed too treacherous for him to attempt to scale except as a last resort, so he decided on north for now. He reckoned it was nearly noon, based on the sun's position, when he decided to stop at a piece of driftwood for a break.

His stomach grumbled unhappily, and he realized it had been over twenty four hours since he had last eaten. He pulled out the water bottle and allowed himself a few small sips to soothe his parched throat. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to chug the entire thing, but he had no way of knowing when he would be able to find another fresh water source.

He reluctantly pulled the backpack back over his shoulders and forced himself to his feet to continue his journey.

Wait.

Something was up ahead.

Dean stopped abruptly as he made out the vague silhouette of a figure moving slowly up and down the beach in the distance. He felt something in his chest clench. Could it be the man from last night...? No. That man didn't exist. That left only one other explanation; another survivor.

“Hey!” Dean cried out, shocked at the pathetically dry and scratchy sound of his own voice. He broke into a run toward the figure, all thoughts of conserving energy gone. What if it was Sam? It had to be Sam.

The excitement within him welled up to a breaking point as the figure seemed to finally notice him and wave frantically before running toward him as well. It didn't take long for them to reach each other.

Dean was a bit disappointed that the man before him wasn't Sam, but he was still relieved beyond measure to finally have contact with another human being. The guy was a bit older than him, tall and thick with kind eyes. “You look hungry, brother.”

Dean felt his stomach grumble once more and he nodded eagerly. If this guy had food and he was willing to share it, he didn't need to be asked twice. The man motioned for him to follow him as he made his way up the beach and toward what Dean surmised what some kind of makeshift shelter. It was surprisingly sophisticated, with large tree branches tied to one another and thick banana leaves covering the frame. “So, you got a name?”

“Dean.” Dean replied, breath still raspy as Benny crawled into the structure and pulled out a couple of reddish fruits that he had never seen before and half of a coconut. The latter nodded and gave his hand a rough shake.

“Benny.”

“Are these... safe?” he asked doubtfully as he picked up one of the weird mango-looking things. Benny nodded and laughed.

“Don't worry brother. I've been trained to deal with situations like this. Can't say I ever thought I would be faced with one though.”

“So what, are you some kind of like, wilderness guide or something?” Dean asked as he took a hesitant bite of the unfamiliar fruit. It may have looked weird, but it was delicious. In no time at all he his first completely devoured and at least half of it was smeared across Dean's face. Benny laughed and shook his head as he took a bite of his own.

“Captain, actually.”

“Wait- really?” Dean spluttered and dropped the half-eaten fruit he was holding. “Were you the captain of...?”

“The cruise ship? Yeah.” Benny scrunched his eyebrows together as though he were in pain and looked down at the sand. “I still ain't got a clue as to what happened. It don't make any sense. Everything was dandy beforehand, at least til we started getting those strange readings...”

“Then the fire,” Dean finished. Images of flames that consumed everything and everyone came unbidden to his mind. He remembered stumbling over charred bodies in his desperation to find his brother, being forced to ignore the people screaming and begging for his help as they burned alive because he had to find Sam. “Benny... is there anyone else?”

“I don't know,” the captain answered truthfully, his eyes full of regret. “You're the first I've seen. What about you, brother?”

Dean debated on if he should reveal what had happened, or at least what he had thought happened to him yesterday. So far Benny was his only companion here though, and he didn't want him to think he was crazy. “No.”

“I see...” Benny seemed disappointed as he finished off his fruit and leaned back in the sand. “Say, whatcha got there?” He motioned towards Dean's brightly colored backpack.

“Found some stuff in a suitcase floating in the water,” he replied as he opened the pack and showed the captain what was inside. Benny whistled in admiration as he pulled out the child's aid kit and turned it over in his hands.

“Now this was a lucky find.” He looked through the rest of the supplies in Dean's bag and stopped suddenly as he saw the half-full water bottle. “Where did you...?”

“In there.” Dean motioned toward the dark jungle looming just past the sand line. Benny nodded.

“Do you think you could find the way back?” he asked hopefully. Dean sighed and shook his head.

“I don't think so. I got pretty lost going in, and then I got chased by some giant lizard thing.”

“Giant lizard?” Benny raised his eyebrows as he looked at Dean skeptically. The younger man seemed to be oblivious to his disbelief.

“Yeah. Saw the eggs first. They were huge, twice as big as my head at least.”

“You wanna lay down for a bit, brother?” Benny asked gently, nothing on his face but genuine concern. “Did you happen to hit your head when you jumped overboard?”

“Benny I'm not- I'm not making this up,” Dean responded indignantly. He felt embarrassed heat creep into his cheeks as he realized how crazy he probably sounded. He definitely couldn't tell Benny about the winged figure.

“Monitor lizards are native to these parts, but even the largest ain’t nowhere near what you're describing, brother.”

Dean sighed in frustration and shook his head. He couldn't have been imagining it, right? Then again, he distinctly remembered meeting a man with wings at a pool of floating lights. Maybe he really wasn't in the best mental state right now. “Yeah... I probably over exaggerated the size a bit.”

Benny nodded and his expression morphed into one of immense relief. Dean couldn't say he blamed him. It would probably be pretty scary to be stuck on a deserted island with a crazy person. Benny turned back to the small pile of supplies and shook his head. 

“We have got to find that water source,” Benny said. “Food is easy ‘nough to find, but water is different. No tellin’ when it might rain again.” 

“Maybe the others found shelter in there?” Dean offered hopefully, looking once more to the dark mass of jungle not far from them. Benny didn’t look convinced, but he attempted to smile for Dean’s benefit. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

Dean didn’t like the tone that Benny was using, but he chose to ignore. Sam _had_ to be alive. He refused to consider an alternative. And now that he had Benny? He could go back into the jungle and find him. Knowing his brother, he had probably already found shelter and water. 

“Do you feel well enough to try and find your way back today?” Benny asked. Dean could tell he was trying to be casual about it, but he didn’t miss the underlying urgency in the captain’s voice when he spoke. They needed a steady source of water. Fast. 

“I think so,” Dean nodded. He was eager too. If there was any chance Sam was in there, he needed to find him. 

“Alright. Think we can use that bag of yours for carrying supplies?” Benny asked. Dean nodded

“Any of this look familiar, brother?” Benny asked, batting a thick leaf out of his face and flicking a large caterpillar-looking insect off of his shoulder. They had been in the jungle for hours now, and there was no sign of water anywhere. Dean sighed and shook his head.

“Sorry. …We aren’t lost, are we?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Benny reassured him. “I can get us back, you just focus on finding that water.” 

Dean nodded and continued to examine their surroundings. It might have been familiar, but it was hard to tell. Everything looked pretty much the same here. And it was hot, and he was tired. He couldn’t think properly. Still, at least there was no sign of giant lizards or winged wild men. That was a plus. 

“Benny,” Dean began after another half hour had passed. The captain perked up from where he was examining some exotic fruit and scrambled back to Dean. 

“Find something? Remember something?”

“I don’t think we’re going to find it. Honestly? None of this is ringing a bell.” 

Benny looked crestfallen, and yeah Dean felt _bad_ , but he wasn’t going to lie and say that he recognized a place he didn’t. 

“We should probably head back then,” Benny said reluctantly. “Sun’s starting to get pretty low. We can start up again first thing in the ‘morning.” 

“Yeah—“ Dean made a motion to follow him, but stopped suddenly in his tracks. After a few moments Benny stopped as well, sensing that the younger man wasn’t behind him anymore. 

“Dean? You okay? You find somethin’?” 

“Benny,” Dean said, breathless. He was staring at something on the forest floor, his face white with shock. Beneath the shade of a low growing fern, was the unmistakable pattern of human feet. Bare feet. They were familiar. He could swear they were the same ones from the beach the previous day. “I think I can find the water.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have any questions about the world/characters/story, my tumblr is www.kisskisscastiel.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my first multi-chapter fic for the Supernatural fandom. I hope that you enjoy it!


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